


Trapped

by JusteAmusant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confined Spaces, First Time, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5253473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusteAmusant/pseuds/JusteAmusant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean! What the fuck dude? I can't hold you much longer. Quit thrusting your junk in my face and keep going."  Sam yelled.<br/>"You love it." Dean meant it has a joke. Swear to God, he meant it as a joke.<br/>But then Sam's breathing got faster, and Dean's left foot slipped off of where it was balanced on Sam's thigh, and Dean looked down into Sam's flushed face.<br/>Sam bit his lower lip and Dean's legs folded beneath him, losing him the little ground he had gained. "Fuckshit."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> My guilty pleasure, Sam and Dean. First time in this fandom.

"Shit." Dean swore. 

Sam's eyes darted around, taking in their situation. "Yeah," he huffed in agreement. "That about sums it up."

Dean's arms were pinned between his sides and the hard dirt walls of the cave. Hole. Entrapment. Whatever the hell underground prison they had fallen into when they had taken one step too far onto a suspicious pile of leaves and dropped straight down below the grassy earth. 

The sounds of their breathing echoed against the rough brown walls. 

Dean, always quick with the answers, asked a stupid question. "What the hell do we do now, Sam?" He tried to move his arms fruitlessly, his elbows banging against crumbling dirt coating a sturdier undercoating of something immovable. Cement? Concrete?

Wait, were those the same thing? Sam would know. Damn his stupid Stanford brain.

"Just," Sam wiggled his torso in a futile effort to make himself smaller. "Stop moving for a sec."

Dean exhaled loudly in frustration, but did as his brother said. After a moment of silence in which Sam's bangs tickled Dean's forehead about five times too many, Dean couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer. "Sam!" He bent a leg experimentally, the one that wasn't slotted tightly in between Sam's. Ignoring the ensuing movement that resulted in him brushing his thigh against one of Sam's, Dean pushed his booted foot against the wall behind Sam.

Nothing. No give.

"Sam. Kick behind me. See if anything-"

"I already tried, Dean. We fell through some kind of trap door. This place is closed solid." Sam's long neck tipped upward, and Dean thought for one delirious moment that maybe they could use Sam's sharp jawline to cut their way out.

Not that Sam could hear his thoughts, but Dean's heart beat a little too fast when Sam's next sentence matched his thoughts a little too well. "Only way out is up." Sam stated clearly.

Dean swore the dirt just behind Sam's back looked softer than the rest. "Sam. Push back. See if you can-"

"Dean, it won't-"

"Just try it, Sammy!" Dean growled. When had Sam stopped listening to his every suggestion? "It looks lighter. Maybe there's a release or something-"

This time Dean was the one who got cut off. "Just behind my back, Dean?" Sam's broad shoulders waved back and forth a couple inches. "And how the hell am I supposed to reach back there?"

"College education, my ass," Dean muttered. He hunched his arms in until they fell to his side. "Gimme a sec." He gingerly lifted his arms upward on either side of Sam, pinched between Sam's too long torso and the unforgiving hard dirt walls. His forearms brushed Sam's sides as he palmed the dirt behind his brother. 

The crumbling dirt behind his brother. 

"Think I might have gotten something!" Dean exclaimed in triumph. His fingers curled into the dirt, scraping it away. "I just need more purchase. Move back."

Sam huffed. "Move back where, Dean? My ass is right up against the wall as it is."

Dean's fingers absolutely did not curl downwards. "Just. Move."

Sam flattened himself back against the wall as best he could. Dean followed in the two inches of space that gained him, and it allowed him more room to curl his hands into the wall, shuffling more dirt.

It also pressed his belly right against Sam's. Pressed his hips right against Sam's.

Pressed his slightly interested cock right into Sam's thigh.

And Sam's into his.

Dean curled his fingers into the now un-moving dirt so hard that it dug under his fingernails. "Sam," he groaned, the fly of his jeans almost starting to hurt his hardening but tender flesh. "Stop moving."

Sam's hips shifted. "You just told me to-"

"Stop!" 

They both paused. The nerves in every millimeter of Dean's dick lit up.  He breathed in slowly, once, twice, three times. 

Dean's hips inched forward, defying every command he gave them.

"Dean," Sam groaned.

"Shut up. Shut  _up,_ Sam." Dean clawed at the dirt once more, cursing it for giving him false hope. "Shit," he swore again. "It ain't movin', Sammy. False alarm."

For one agonizing minute their breathing was the only sound in the small enclosure. 

Dean caught Sam biting his lip, and ignored the pulsing in his dick telling him to take over Sam's job for him. 

"Dean," Sam said for the millionth time, and  _dammit_ could he please stop saying his name just now. "The only way out is up," Sam repeated.  _  
_

"We fell down a freakin' trap door, Sammy. We don't have one foot of extra space down here." Dean's hands had given up on finding purchase on the wall, and unwittingly found themselves gripping Sam's hips. "How the hell do we get back up?"

Sam's arms got tired, at least that's what Dean told himself when they slid down Dean's sides to land on the waistband of his jeans. 

Dean breathed a little harder. 

 _Bar later,_ his brain chanted.  _Whiskey. Bar. Woman. Whiskey. Bar. Woman. Whiskey, bar wom-_

"Oh holy fuck," he groaned when Sam's fingers curled between his jeans and the heated skin of his hips. 

"Dean?" Sam questioned. Like the fucker didn't know the effect he was causing. "You okay?"

"Fine, Sam," Dean said too quickly. "Just. It's been." He let out a strangled laugh. "It's been one hell of a week, Sammy. While we figure this out, can you not, you know, touch me?"

Sam grumbled. "Not a lot of room, Dean." And it was not Dean's imagination that Sam's crotch got impossibly closer to his own.

"Sam-"

"Would you focus, Dean? I'm trying to figure us a way out of here." 

_Yeah, with your ridiculously long fingers curling way too far into my ass dimples._

"Okay," Sam breathed, way too close to Dean's ear. "Between the two of us, our combined heights are over twelve feet tall. If you stand on my shoulders, you should be able to reach the doorway that we fell through."

Dean's hands tightened, and he resolutely did not think of how smooth yet hard over muscle Sam's skin was. "Stand on your shoulders," he repeated. "In case you haven't noticed, college boy, there ain't a whole lot of extra room in here. How the hell am I supposed to get up there?"

Sam cleared his throat. "You, uh." Even in the tight, quiet space, Dean couldn't quite make out what Sam said.

"Speak up, Sam. Say again?"

Sam cleared his throat again, louder. His words came out in a rush. "I"ll stand still. You uh." He rapidly coughed. "You climb me." 

""Oh, Jesus," Dean rolled his eyes, but for some reason his hands still hadn't moved from Sam's hips, damn them. "This is like a bad porno."

Sam choked out a laugh. "You would know."

"Shut up." Dean cast his eyes upward, caught a sliver of daylight about seven feet up. He really, really needed to get out of here.

"Okay," he said determinedly. "Brace yourself, Beanpole." 

Sam extended his arms as far as he could, flattening his palms against the wall and locking the muscles in his arms. He bent his legs slightly, pushing one knee into a wall and thrusting one against the fly of Dean's jeans. 

"Sam!" Dean squeaked.

"Sorry!" Sam cursed under his breath. "I'm just trying to brace myself." Dean felt Sam's muscles lock underneath his leg. 

"Dean," Sam said shortly. "Go. Now, go, for the love of God go now." 

Dean didn't need to be told twice. Sam's hard thigh against his hard cock was playing ridiculous tricks on his imagination. Dean placed his hands firmly on Sam's shoulders, ignoring the hard lines of muscled granite that were Sam's arms, and lifted one of his legs to find purchase on Sam's thigh.

"You okay?" Dean checked.

"Fine," Sam grunted. "Keep going."

Dean got his other foot onto Sam's other thigh, literally  _oh God literally climbing him,_ just like Sam said. He raised one arm to get a grip on the wall to continue his ascent.

And thrust his crotch right into Sam's face. 

"Oh, Jesus fucking-" Dean's hips thrust forward without his permission.

"Dean! What the fuck dude? I can't hold you much longer. Quit thrusting your junk in my face and  _keep going."_ Sam yelled.

"You love it." Dean meant it has a joke. Swear to God, he meant it as a joke. 

But then Sam's breathing got faster, and Dean's left foot slipped off of where it was balanced on Sam's thigh, and Dean looked down into Sam's flushed face.

Sam bit his lower lip and Dean's legs folded beneath him, losing him the little ground he had gained. "Fuckshit." 

Sam caught him just before he could get stuck in God knows what kind of crumpled position in the cramped space. 

Caught him, hell, Sam fucking  _enveloped_ him. Sam's arms were wrapped fully around Dean's waist, one of Dean's legs slotted between Sam's and one hitched up on Sam's right hip.

"Sam."

Nothing. Just the sound of their too fast breathing, Sam's mouth not an inch from Dean's.

"Sam!" 

Sam's hips pushed forward slowly, tentatively. "Dean?"

Dean's cock could cut steel, and he spoke before his brain could catch up on what little blood was left in it. "Sam, if you don't do that again right fucking now, I will rock salt your ass so fast mmphh-" The breath shot out of Dean as Sam's mouth crushed against his, hard and wet and open, their tongues slamming together as their hips crashed forward. 

"Dean," Sam choked out, lips slick and glistening from the kiss. His hand slid downward, slotting itself between two pairs of denim, rubbing roughly against Dean.

"Yeah, Sammy,  _shit."_ Dean breathed. Sam's hand pushed harder against him, and Dean's hips rocked up and into it. He slid one of his hands down to cup Sam and return the favor. 

Sam moaned. "Harder, Dean, please, harder, so fucked up, _God yes,_  can't do this, Jesus yes right  _there!"_

"Not much," Dean panted against Sam's open mouth, "we do," he jerked as Sam pressed his fingertips into him just right, "that isn't fucked up, Sammy." He crushed his mouth against Sam's for one last hasty, desperate kiss and rubbed his hand harder, setting a quick pace in time with his hips.

"Dean!" Sam gave one last thrust of his hips and came in his jeans, pushing into Dean's hands even after the aftershocks of his orgasm faded. 

"Fucking hell, Sam," Dean grunted as he followed with his own release. Fucking hell.

 

"Shit." Dean muttered while taking in their surroundings, which haven't changed except for the new smell.

Sam let out a hoarse chuckle. "Yeah. Again. Spot on."

"First thing after we get out of here, we are finding a fucking laundromat." Dean ran his hands down his thighs, willed his hands to stop shaking. Soon as he could get his legs to move, he was climbing fast as he could over Sam's freakishly long body and pushing open the damn trap door. His mind may have shut down, but the instincts that had been ingrained in him for almost thirty years had not. "You okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah. M'fine, Dean." Dean didn't know how Sam could gather himself up in that tight of space, but somehow he managed. 

Sam laced his fingers together, palms upward, on his right thigh, creating a foothold. "Come on," he nudged Dean, voice soft. "Get us out of here."

Dean placed his foot in Sam's grip, pushed off of Sam's shoulders once more as Sam launched Dean upwards with his strong arms. 

The sliver of daylight burst into an entire open canvas when Dean's arms shoved up against the door, the panel flipping open. 

Dean reached down to lock wrists with Sam, grunting with the effort to pull him up and out of the enclosure.

Sam fell halfway onto him, both of them scrambling as far away from the two foot square in the earth as they could.

"No more forest hunts," Sam grunted. But his mouth curled up at the corners. 

Dean grunted, but turned his face to hide his smile. "Yeah Sammy," he agreed. "Whatever you say."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my original debuts at www.autumnmckayne.com  
> Twitter - @autumnmckayne


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